


Moirallegiance

by orphan_account



Series: One-Shot Wonderfest [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:45:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moirallegiance: A type of romance in which both partners actively strive to keep the other partner from hurting others and themselves. </p><p>Trolls may have invented the term, but nations need them most of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moirallegiance

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a response to a kink meme, found here:  
> http://aphkinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/51604367490/part-24-anyone-moirails
> 
> I hope you like it!

In a different universe, far away and long ago, yet happening right now, there is a race called trolls. Their concept of romance is multifaceted. Although books have been written on the subject, there is only one concept that is relevant: moirallegiance.

Although the term was invented by trolls, it is perhaps more important to nations.

////////

"That's it, this time I'm going to kill him!"

Cuba stormed through the halls of the World Conference Building, rolling up his sleeves. Behind him came the sound of feet struggling to keep up. 

"Please, Cuba, just think about it! What's the use of killing America, hm?" Spain tried his best to stop the enraged Cuban. "It was just a mix-up, I'm sure America didn't _mean_ to eat your ice cream..."

"Doesn't matter!"

The doors to the conference room slammed open, and half a dozen nations jumped in surprise. The meeting was over; what could possibly elicit such an entrance?

Cuba's eyes found America, eating a hot dog. "Alright, America, fists up! This is the last time you take something of mine!"

"C'mon, dude," America said, his mouth full of food. "It's just ice cream, you can always get more of it!"

Cuba growled and clenched his fists. "You little..."

"Cuba!"

A collective sigh of relief blew through the room when the quiet voice of Canada preceded its owner. The blond nation placed a hand on Cuba's shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"Your stupid oaf of a brother is the problem!" Cuba yelled, but with less ferocity. 

Canada squeezed Cuba's shoulder. "He ate your ice cream, didn't he? It's okay, I'll get you some more."

"He still has to pay for what he did!"

"Shhh..." Canada papped Cuba's face and shooshed him some more. "Shh...it's okay. It's just ice cream. I'll get you more. Shh..."

After a few minutes, the rage in Cuba's eyes died down. His shoulders sagged out of their defensive position, and he hugged Canada. "Thanks, Canada. Sorry for all the trouble."

Canada patted his moirail on the back. "It's okay. Let's go get that ice cream."

As soon as the two nations had walked out the door, England shook his head. "How on earth does he do that?"

France shrugged and sighed. "It's is beautiful, no?"


End file.
